


For the Love of Maitimo

by orphan_account



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blackmail, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Half-Cousin Incest, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingon would do anything to protect his beloved Maedhros's reputation. He also never wants to part from him. When Maglor finds out about their secret relationship and threatens to out them, Fingon does whatever Maglor asks of him. The price of silence is very steep, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Love of Maitimo

**Author's Note:**

> Read at your own risk and heed the tags! This is major dark!Fic. The main event is a graphic rape. Initially I wanted to write a somewhat fluffy Fingon/Maglor, but my muse took it in an entirely different direction.

Findekáno noticed his knuckles becoming white as he gripped the edge of the trunk in front of him. It was necessary if he wanted to keep somewhat still for Maitimo, who was pounding him thoroughly at an increasingly quick pace. 

“Ai, be mindful, will you? You’ll push me off!” Findekáno complained. 

Instead of going a bit slower, which neither of them would probably have been happy with, Maitimo wrapped his strong arms about Findekáno’s torso and pulled him up, so both were standing flush against each other. 

Findekáno felt as though he would come at any moment once Maitimo wrapped a hand around his erection and started stroking it slowly yet firmly. 

His hair was brushed aside from his ear before he heard Maitimo whisper, “What wouldn’t I give to have you properly on a large soft bed? We could do anything we wanted then.”

Findekáno didn’t answer. If he thought about it with a clear head, about the fact of his relationship with his dear half-cousin only evolving behind closed doors, or deep in the woods, it made him depressed. He couldn’t cope with the idea of their love and passion for each other, seemingly so pure and good, being seen as an abomination by anyone else. 

For now though, all that mattered was Maitimo’s talented hand and his hard length, both working in tandem to bring Findekáno to completion. Then, despite how involved with each other they were, both froze with fear upon hearing the door to Maitimo’s main chamber open and brisk footsteps on the stone floor that signaled someone entering. 

They were relatively safe, behind the door of an off-shooting supply room only servants used. The servants did not work on the personal chambers in the palace at this time. That meant only one thing; Fëanáro, Nerdanel, or one of their sons was looking for Maitimo. It was thankfully less risky; no one in the family would think to open this door to look for him. 

Nonetheless, Maitimo pulled out of Findekáno with no hesitation and started reaching for his tunic, which had been flung off carelessly in the midst of their passion. Findekáno was in a much worse position; he was completely naked, and had to look for all of his clothing in the dark, with absolutely no noise. 

The footsteps were getting louder and louder, as whoever the visitor was traveled through Maitimo’s rooms. 

“Nelya?” they heard a voice ask, too close to the door for comfort. It was very clearly Makalaurë’s.

What happened then made Findekáno’s heart stop. Makalaurë’s voice had startled Maitimo, who had stepped back while pulling on his tunic…straight into a pile of brooms and mops standing in a bucket. The entire bundle of items came crashing down. The noise was almost too much for Findekáno to bear; he felt faint. 

Makalaurë’s footsteps were heard again, quickly coming towards them. Findekáno frantically started feeling the floor for his breeches, tunic, anything! But it was too late. The door opened, bringing into the storage closet a wide shaft of light that almost blinded them. 

Findekáno couldn’t move; he stood completely still. Though he was looking at the doorway and not at Maitimo, he also sensed his lover not being able to move. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw Maitimo’s brother, open-mouthed, eyes darting between the two of them and taking in their condition. Finally, Maitimo found his voice.

“Kana, I had to help Findekáno with, with… his skin burned…,” he didn’t finish, not being able to conceive a convincing enough lie. Whatever he said now, it would be clear what was really going on, especially considering Findekáno’s nakedness and softening erection. 

Makalaurë blinked; once, twice. Then, he brought his gaze to rest upon the bulge below Maitimo’s belly; the tunic apparently hadn’t covered everything it was supposed to. Findekáno’s heart sank; even an idiot could deduce what they had been up to, given the evidence. That was exactly what Makalaurë did.

“Nelya, does my eyesight deceive me?” he asked, voice high and wavering, a sound no one had heard from him before. 

Not a word came out of either of them. Makalaurë was not so dull as to be convinced that his eyesight had deceived him, so there was no point in speaking.  

Shock started melting into something else on Makalaurë’s face, a strongly recognizable yet rarely seen emotion; disgust. 

“Maitimo, please tell me it was _you_ fucking _him_ , not the other way around,” he asked, his voice now back to its normal tone, only devoid of all emotion.

The way Makalaurë looked at him made Findekáno want to melt into the floor, to explode, to break down in tears, all of it at once. This was his worst nightmare come to life. He felt like a disgusting centipede no-one wanted to see. 

Without warning, Makalaurë reached out to Findekáno and grabbed him with both hands. He was strong. That, coupled with Findekáno’s shock, made resistance futile. He was spun around, and felt two fingers probing at his still-stretch hole. 

“Kana, what in Manwë’s name are you doing?” Maitimo screamed. 

At that, Makalaurë unhanded Findekáno and turned to his brother, hissing, “Silence! It is not in your best interest to attract an audience.”

Maitimo couldn’t argue. His brother turned back to Findekáno.

“Leave! Cover your nakedness and take your abominable deviance with you,” he told him, with no small amount of poison. 

Findekáno burst into tears at the verbal abuse. This was his half-cousin, who had always been kind to him, who was the most gentle-natured among the Fëanorions, and who now most likely wanted him gone forever. Though his vision was blurred, he reached for and frantically pulled on his clothes, wanting to run out of there as quickly as he could. 

Though Maitimo tried to stop him, Findekáno ran towards the nearest way out of the house, one he knew wasn’t frequented often. 

As he ran, he heard snippets of Makalaurë lecturing Maitimo.

“..not your fault…Ñolofinwëans… seduced you…”

 _So that’s what you think of me and my family, Kanafinwë_ , Findekáno thought bitterly as he ran like the wind, not stopping until he reached his chambers, where he passed out in the front rooms, from exhaustion and the sheer shock of all that had happened in the past hour. 

* * *

After two days of alternating between mechanically performing his duties and sleeping off his sorrow and regret, Findekáno received the following letter. 

_Findekáno,_

_I apologize in advance about the direction our relationship has to take from now on. You are of the House of Finwë, same as me, and for that reason I wish we could have continued to treat each other civilly. Yet your behavior has me concerned that you are most unworthy of being related to myself and Nelyafinwë. To be completely honest, I expected much better even of Ñolofinwë’s son._

_Nevertheless, as the wellbeing of a mutual friend is at stake, I would like to come to a agreement with you that may atone for your improper behavior. As this matter is of utmost secrecy, I desire to meet with you in private, tomorrow at midday, for a thorough discussion._

_Kanafinwë_

For a long moment rage burned white behind his eyes upon reading the letter. How could Makalaurë even dare use this condescending tone, mere days after causing him so much pain, after making him feel like he was some sort of mutant that needed to be destroyed?

Then Findekáno thought more about the letter once reason returned to him. It was clear who the “mutual friend” was: Maitimo. Of course, he was pretty certain regarding what Makalaurë was trying to say; his brother must be heartbroken and worried about not seeing Findekáno again. Action had to be taken, Findekáno decided. Talking to Makalaurë would be as good of a first step as any. 

* * *

Makalaurë came, as he promised he would, on the next day. Findekáno told the servants they were not to disturb him, as he had important business to discuss with his half-cousin. As for his family, none of them were as impolite as to barge in upon him without knocking first. 

When he first greeted Findekáno, Makalaurë acted fairly normal. It took Findekáno closer inspection, as well as some time, to realize what was different now. Instead of the gentle, content demeanor Makalaurë usually wore, he seemed restless, even a bit wild, behind his nonchalant façade. Almost like a hungry animal.

“Enough of these pretenses, Kanafinwë!”

Findekáno couldn’t bear any more of his ridiculous small talk, though he had arrived mere minutes earlier. How dared his half-cousin pretend as though all was good between them, when really it wasn’t, when really Makalaurë had not only killed his happiness but also manhandled him in a disturbing fashion?

“Very well, Findekáno,” Makalaurë said, all ice and daggers now, “I have a proposal to make, one in which I allow you to continue your dalliance with my brother.”

Findekáno could barely control his rage.

“Excuse me, who are _you_ to allow us to express our feelings for each other? We don’t need _anyone_ ’s permission, much less yours!” Findekáno took a breath, “And for your information, Nelya and I aren’t in a dalliance with each other. We’re in love and we care for one another. Not that you would understand,” Findekáno scoffed.

“You think you love each other?! You, Findekáno, are just a slut running after my brother for attention. And Nelya, he isn’t lucky enough to have a wife as I do, so he seeks release with you, who tempt him with fine clothes and golden ribbons! He doesn’t need you. You’d be surprised by how replaceable you are.”

“How dare you come to my father’s house to insult me? Have you no shame?”

“Oh, worry not! I have shame, unlike you,” Makalaurë spat, “but my conscience demands I be honest, so I’m letting you hear the facts.”

Findekáno felt an overwhelming desire to hurt Makalaurë as deeply as possible, to rip him to pieces, to punch him, to annihilate him somehow. Yet how would that bring Maitimo back to him? It would only cause additional trouble. 

“Well, I suggest you take your _facts_ elsewhere,” Findekáno growled, when he had finally reclaimed command of his voice.

“Don’s be too reckless, my dear cousin. Don’t you want to hear my proposition?” Makalaurë asked, perfectly calm again.

That would be for the best, Findekáno thought to himself. The sooner Makalaurë said his piece, the sooner he would leave. Findekáno didn’t think he could stand much more of him.

“State your piece, then,” said Findekáno brusquely.

“It’s quite simply, really. Do what I want, and I won’t share your secret. I’ll even turn a blind eye if you two continue your… love affair.”

He had said the last words mockingly, yet all Findekáno heard was that he could continue to see Maitimo. 

Eagerly he asked, “What would you have me do?” 

Makalaurë didn’t answer right away. Instead, he ran his eyes appreciatively over Findekáno, up and down all the way. 

“What you are best at.”

Makalaurë wanted him to play on his lyre? It didn’t make sense. Though Findekáno thought music was his forte, he couldn’t compare to his half-cousin. Perhaps Makalaurë simply wanted to have a laugh. Although the idea angered Findekáno to no end, he knew it was a small price to pay in order to continue being with Maitimo. 

With a resigned sigh, Findekáno made towards the lyre that lay on a table on the other side of  his room. 

Seeing him do so, Makalaurë asked, “Where are you going?”

“You wanted me to play for you! Did you not?”

Makalaurë’s laugh rang throughout the room, pure and melodious, giving no hint of its owner’s maliciousness. 

“My dear Findekáno. I don't want you to play for me. I meant that _I_ wanted to play with _you_ ,” he said as he came closer, his laugh now gone.

He reached out and, not noting Findekáno's flinch, took hold of one of his ribboned braids, caressing the end of it with his thumb. 

A faint smile appeared on his face as he said “and there won’t be any music involved.”

Findekáno now understood what Makalaurë wanted from him, and the thought made him turn cold. Though he had been surprised by his viciousness, and how suddenly his half-cousin had turned cold towards him, this was something Findekáno would never have expected from him. 

There was nothing he wished for more than to throw Makalaurë out of his chambers, to scream at the top of his lungs about how unfairly he was being treated, to see Makalaurë punished for his disturbing behavior. 

But then there came other thoughts. Of Maitimo, sitting alone and being miserable. Of never being able to spend time alone with him again. Of losing the ability to love. 

Whatever the price, Findekáno could not forsake his lover. 

Tears welled up in Findekáno’s eyes as he looked at Makalaurë. 

“What about the golden-haired wench you always brag about? Don’t you enjoy her whenever you please? Why me?”

“Well, Findekáno,” Makalaurë started, the malicious little smile still on his face, “her fea is weak, so it’s best to let her recover. And anyway, she can’t cater to all of my needs.”

“And what needs are those?” Findekáno asked, a little fearful of what the answer might be. 

“Well, I know Ñolofinwë detests my father, so what better way for me to get back at him than by thoroughly fucking his firstborn son to my heart’s content?” His creepy smile widened.

Findekáno grew even more afraid. For Makalaurë, this wasn’t about forcing Findekáno to return unrequited affections, but about exerting control and dominance. Makalaurë would have no reason to be gentle with him, as Maitimo always was. 

Findekáno just stood with his head down for a long moment, trying to digest the circumstances. He was cruelly jolted from his thoughts by Makalaurë. 

“I’ve wasted enough time here with you. Either you position yourself over this desk,” he said, pointing to the furniture piece next to them, “or rumors will spread in Tirion tomorrow of how Findekáno, eldest son of Ñolofinwë, regulars offers himself to Fëanáro’s firstborn on hands and knees.”

He then grabbed Findekáno by the shoulders, and pressed against him, no doubt to to scare him further with the sizable bulge pressing against his lower back.

“How would your father react to that?”

The first tears fell from Findekáno’s eyes as he went over to the desk, with footsteps heavy as lead, and bent over the it at the waist. 

“That’s a good boy,” Makalaurë chuckled, “a nice submissive Ñolofinwëan.”

He wasted no time in standing behind Findekáno’s bent body and grabbing at the top of his breeches, easily tearing them in two, which left Findekáno exposed. He felt so helpless; everything was out of his control. 

Even if he wanted to get out of this agreement, to let rumors spread about himself and Maitimo, and to never be with his beloved again, Findekáno had a feeling that Makalaurë would keep him here by force. He seemed mad with lust and bitterness. 

As he heard Makalaurë unlacing himself, Findekáno thought of how far his circumstances had fallen in the last few days. Then, he had been a happy carefree Noldorin prince, unremarkable save for the secret affair with his cousin. Now, he was heartbroken, and shamed by someone he’d considered a friend. That same someone was about to rape him over his own desk, through blackmail. 

Findekáno tried so hard to tune out all conscious thought, to be in another place when it happened, but it wasn’t possible. Makalaurë’s cock was large, perhaps even thicker than Maitimo’s. Or perhaps it just felt that way because Findekáno had not been loosed up at all before Makalaurë spread his cheeks as far as they would go and started pushing the head of his length unrelentingly into his opening. 

Findekáno knew he could do it quicker. He knew Makalaurë was purposefully making this as painful as possible, taking his sweet time in getting past the tight ring of muscle. Findekáno felt as though he would explode with pain. Tears started flowing earnestly down his cheeks as he cried out. At that, his half-cousin promptly took a kerchief lying on the desk and stuffed Findekáno’s mouth with it. 

“Why do you insist on being troublesome?” he hissed in Findekáno’s ear, as the other was squirming while being penetrated to his core. He held him still with the weight of his arms, much stronger than Findekáno expected.

A deep, lustful sigh behind him caused Findekáno to despair at the unfairness of it all. He was innocent of any wrongdoing. Never would he willingly have cause Maitimo or his brothers any harm. Yet here Makalaurë was, deriving such pleasure from Findekáno’s pain and violation, just to get back at his family and their “corruption.”

“It’s alright,” Makalaurë crooned as he started slowly and smoothly spearing Findekáno with shards of pain, “to show me you like this. Haven’t you been in this position dozens of times.”

Violently Findekáno shook his head. _No! No! Never have I been treated so cruelly, so unforgivably!_

“Hundreds, then? Dear me!”

The smirk in Makalaurë’s voice made Findekáno feel physically ill.

“You know, I always knew your sister was quite the slut. Always sitting so close to Tyelkormo, even in public. Always with her dress cut low and her flirtatious giggles, begging to be taken no matter the time or place. But you? You might be even worse than her. It’s amazing how well you conceal your loose nature, dear Findekáno.”

By now, Makalaurë had started thrusting eagerly into him with short, punishing strokes. The pain seemed to be getting worse. The sensation of blood trickling from his abused hole down his thighs made it no better. There was no denying he was being gravely injured, not just emotionally but physically as well. 

It was all for Maitimo. This would be over soon, and then he could be with Maitimo. This would be over soon, and he could avoid Makalaurë as much as he wanted. This would be over soon, and  Makalaurë would keep his evil mouth shut about him and Maitimo. 

He was being brutally slammed into now, moans and gasps coming from behind him. Vaguely he recognized that Makalaurë was close to coming, but it brought him no relief. Hopelessly Findekáno realized this could never be undone. Even after Makalaurë was gone and he was safely alone again, he knew memories of this would continue to haunt him for a long time to come. 

Despite the pain and despite the indignity of the violence against him, Findekáno felt his own body attempting to betray him. His length was fully hard, likely from being rubbed against the desk by the force of Makalaurë’s pounding. Yet he hadn’t even realized when it had become erect.

Makalaurë slammed into him one last time with a loud grunt. That was when Findekáno felt his hateful seed spurting into him, then trickling out his hole when Makalaurë finally pulled out. Findekáno had long since lost the strength to act or think, so he just stayed in the same position, bent over the desk with his violation on display for all to see. 

“I’m done, you can get up.” Makalaurë said, as he started rearranging his garb. He sounded so normal, as if none of these events had occurred. As if he hadn’t just hurt his kind-hearted half-cousin in the cruelest way possible.

Slowly, Findekáno took the kerchief out of his mouth, and realized his jaw ached. It was nothing to the discomfort he felt in other places, though. 

“Will you not show me out,” Makalaurë asked, acidly, “Where are your manners?”

Makalaurë needed to leave as soon as was possible. It was good they both agreed on something, and Findekáno was spurred to action. Getting up as quickly as was possible for him, given his injuries, he limped to the door and heard Makalaurë following him. He opened it, looking at Makalaurë and making a gesture encouraging him to leave. Makalaurë made to go, but before he did, he looked at where Findekáno was holding his leggings up to prevent them from falling and noticed the traitorous bulge in front. 

He smirked, and said, “Didn’t I say you’d enjoy it? I know a slut when I see one.”

The tears that had stopped flowing earlier again reappeared in Findekáno’s eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” said Makalaurë in a mockery of comfort, “it runs in your family.” 

With that he turned and walked out the door. 

Makalaurë’s words cut deeper than any blade.


End file.
